


This Fever Won't Break

by mjules



Category: Star Trek 2009
Genre: Crossdressing, D/s kink, Genderqueer, Genderqueer Character, Humiliation kink, M/M, Queer Character, Roleplay: Teacher/student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/pseuds/mjules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk is taking summer classes in the holodeck, and Mr. McCoy is up for a little special tutoring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Fever Won't Break

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your summer than lurking in my doorway”—McCoy checked the person’s appearance out of the corner of his eye—“Miss Kirk?”

 

Jim’s eyelashes fluttered down over those bright blue eyes, bright pink blooming over the apples of his cheeks.  His white blouse was unbuttoned one button too far, and the red plaid skirt was rolled at the waist, showing off more pale, smooth thigh than was strictly acceptable in the school code.

 

“Miss Kirk,” McCoy said firmly.  “Are you wearing _makeup_?”

 

Jim’s eyes snapped up.  “No sir, Mr. McCoy,” he said demurely.  “That would be against the school dress code.”

 

McCoy sat back in his chair, pushing the rolled sleeves of his shirt further up his forearms.  The flimsy summer breeze flirting with him through the open windows of his classroom wasn’t doing shit against this new source of heat in the room. 

 

“That’s never stopped you before.”

 

Jim’s lower lip—suspiciously shiny and shell-pink, the color of innocent little-girl lip gloss betraying his lie—curved fully forward in a practiced pout.  “I’m a good girl, Mr. McCoy.  Really, I am.”

 

McCoy’s heart tugged just a little, and he shut down the tender feeling immediately.  It wasn’t time for that yet.  “That’s not what I hear around school, Miss Kirk.  I heard you sucked Dean Pike’s cock two days ago to get out of detention—detention that you earned by being caught smoking in the girls’ room.”

 

The blue gaze through ridiculously long lashes was sullen and rebellious, and McCoy arched an imperious eyebrow.  Jim wasn’t the least bit chastised by it.  McCoy tried a new tack.

 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Miss Kirk.  What are you doing visiting my classroom?  School’s out for the summer... unless you’re taking remedial classes.”  Jim’s eyes darted away from him, and McCoy stood, bracing his hip against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.  “Is that it?  You spent too much time opening your legs and not enough time opening your books, and now you’ve got to make up your grades?”

 

“I failed on purpose,” Jim protested.  “I could’ve done it.  I knew all of it.”  Bright blue eyes locked onto his again, making his heart stutter in his chest.  McCoy scowled harder to hide his reaction.  “I’m not _stupid_, Mr. McCoy.”

 

“No.”  McCoy strode forward deliberately and reached out to tip Jim’s chin up, baring the long, smooth neck.  “No, Miss Kirk, you certainly are not.”  He slid his hand down Jim’s throat, tightening his fingers just enough that he could feel Jim’s pulse throbbing against his fingertips, the rate picking up subtly as he squeezed.  “So then why _did_ you fail?”

 

Jim swallowed, every nuance of the motion tangible against McCoy’s hand.  “Because there aren’t as many people around the school in the summertime.”  The hoarseness of his whisper was too much to be explained by McCoy’s hand against his larynx.

 

McCoy let his grip loosen, let his fingertips drag across Jim’s Adam’s apple and down into the hollow where his clavicles met.  “I thought you liked people.  The way I hear it, your number is up in the boys’ room with a note assuring interested parties just how _much_ you like people.”

 

“I don’t want people,” Jim said, his tongue darting out to moisten his lower lip.  McCoy followed the motion with his eyes, feeling his dick twitch in his pants as it started filling with blood.  “I want…”

 

McCoy waited, but Jim didn’t finish his sentence.  “You want _what_, Miss Kirk?  Finish your sentence.”

 

Jim’s gaze skittered away again, and he pressed his lips tightly together.  McCoy gripped his throat, harder this time, forcing his chin up higher and trying to catch his eyes. 

 

“Look at me.”  It took a long moment and a threatening squeeze of McCoy’s fingers, but Jim finally obeyed.  “Finish. Your. Sentence, Miss Kirk.”

 

“I want you,” Jim ground out between clenched teeth.

 

McCoy dropped his hand and took two steps back, completely removing himself from Jim’s personal space.  There were finger-shapes on Jim’s throat starting to turn pale red.  McCoy felt something inside twitch and made a mental note to include Jim’s throat in the areas he would go over with the regenerator afterward.

 

For now, he crossed his arms again, backing up until he could perch on the edge of his desk.  Jim looked uncomfortable standing in the doorway, his shoulders hunched, his hands tugging at the hem of his too-short skirt.

 

“Come here, Miss Kirk.”

 

Jim looked startled, but he came forward—cautiously at first, then more boldly until he was practically strutting, his hips swinging insolently.  He stood a mere breath away from McCoy, the fabric of McCoy’s pants barely brushing against the bare skin of Jim’s thighs.

 

“Kiss me, Miss Kirk.”

 

A visible shudder rippled through Jim’s body, but after a moment’s hesitation, he did as asked, pressing his lips chastely against McCoy’s.  McCoy carefully did not move, did not reach for Jim, did not return the kiss.  Jim pressed in more firmly, but when McCoy still didn’t react, he broke the kiss and took a half-step back, lowering his head.

 

“Now what was that, darlin’?” McCoy drawled.  “That wasn’t anything like what I expected from the school’s biggest slut.”  He arched an eyebrow.  “I think maybe you were lying to me about why you’re taking summer classes.  Maybe you _do_ need the grades.  Maybe you don’t want me and are just trying to _soften me up_ to give you a better grade in biology.”  Without warning, his hand cracked down across the fullest part of Jim’s ass, making Jim jump.  “Is that what’s going on, Miss Kirk?  Are you trying to _bribe_ me?”

 

“No!”  Jim paused, cleared his throat, and repeated more softly, “No sir, Mr. McCoy.”

 

“All right,” McCoy said, re-crossing his arms.  “I’ll give you one more chance to convince me.”

 

This time, Jim’s hands pushed into McCoy’s hair as he tilted his head, slanting his mouth across McCoy’s, prying McCoy’s lips open with his tongue.  The taste of cinnamon exploded over McCoy’s palate as Jim licked into his mouth, pressed in close, and wedged his hips between McCoy’s open thighs. 

 

McCoy kissed him back, finally allowing his hands to grip Jim’s hips, bunching the material of that sinful skirt as he massaged the muscle hiding underneath it.  Jim groaned into his mouth and went soft and pliable in McCoy’s hands.

 

_Goddamn gorgeous motherfucker_.  McCoy pulled away from the kiss and held Jim away from him with the bruising hold on his hips.  “Miss Kirk,” he said sternly.  “You are chewing gum.”  One hand left Jim’s hip and smacked his ass in the same place as before.  “That is definitely against school code.”

 

Jim’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard.

 

“Did you just swallow your gum, Miss Kirk?”

 

Still wide-eyed, Jim nodded slowly.  McCoy spanked him again, the sound loud in the empty classroom.  “_That_,” he growled, “is not good for you.”

 

Jim shivered hard against him, and McCoy gripped the abused cheek of Jim’s ass, squeezing and lifting.  Jim groaned, his hips bucking.  “Please,” Jim whispered.  “Please, Mr. McCoy.”

 

“Yeah,” McCoy breathed, licking a stripe up Jim’s throat as Jim’s head fell back.  “You like that, don’t you.”

 

“Please, sir.”

 

McCoy pushed Jim away and stood.  He took four steps back, rolling his chair to the side, and gestured to the desk.  “Miss Kirk, if you would please take a seat.”

 

Jim’s eyebrow crawled up his forehead, the first clue McCoy had had during the scene that Jim’s day to day personality was still paying attention somewhere inside the girl he was playing. 

 

“_Miss Kirk_.”  McCoy’s voice was sharp now, and Jim’s lips parted, his pupils dilating.  “You will please take a seat.”

 

Jim did as he was told, hitching himself up on the edge of the desk, keeping his knees demurely together.  He tugged fruitlessly at the hem of his skirt without succeeding in covering any more of his bare, pale legs.  McCoy sat down in his chair and rolled forward until Jim had to part his legs to make room.  His feet—in penny loafers and white socks; the old-style Catholic schoolgirl uniform was nothing if not detailed—braced on the arms of McCoy’s chair, and Jim pushed his skirt down with both hands, covering his crotch.

 

“Are you hiding from me?” McCoy asked, skating his hands up Jim’s thighs, toying with the hem of the skirt.  Jim fidgeted, the blush on his cheeks deepening and spreading down his throat.  McCoy reached up and toyed with the buttons on Jim’s white blouse, opening them slowly and pushing the shirt aside.  Jim was wearing a black lace bra underneath, the straps and delicate scalloping stark against his chest.  Jim gasped and squirmed as McCoy spread his hand over one of the sheer cups and used the heel of his palm to rub the lace over Jim’s nipple.

 

McCoy reached up with his other hand to tap two fingers against Jim’s shiny pink lips, smiling as he noticed that the gloss was smeared now, the evidence of their wild kiss earlier.  “Open up, darlin’,” McCoy murmured, and Jim accepted his fingers into his mouth, hot tongue curling around them as he began to suckle enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” McCoy said, his own voice beginning to sound breathless.  “Get ’em real good and wet, darlin’.” 

 

With Jim thus distracted, McCoy removed the hand that was toying with Jim’s breast and knocked Jim’s hands away from his skirt.  McCoy rucked the fabric up above Jim’s hips, smiling at the black lace panties underneath that were doing nothing to restrain Jim’s erection.

 

“Lift up,” McCoy murmured.  Jim, distracted with McCoy’s fingers in his mouth, his own hands taking over where McCoy had left off with his nipples, didn’t respond.  McCoy slapped the side of Jim’s thigh, this time skin against skin cracking loud into the room, no fabric to muffle it.  “That was an order, darlin’.  Lift your hips.”

 

Jim squeaked and did as he was told, giving McCoy room to skim Jim’s panties down his legs.  He left them hooked around one ankle, liking the debauched appearance it gave the wanton creature on his desk.  McCoy leaned forward and breathed across Jim’s erection, smiling when it twitched slightly in response.  Jim’s mouth had gone slack, and McCoy tapped his lips with his fingers again.  “I didn’t say you could stop suckin’ yet, Miss Kirk.”

 

He could hear his own accent thickening, and apparently Jim could as well, if the hitch in his breathing was anything to go by.  Jim _loved_ hearing his accent when they were in bed.  Or sprawled across a desk in a classroom on the holodeck, for that matter.

 

Jim obediently suckled on McCoy’s fingers again as McCoy leaned forward, gripping Jim’s hip as he licked across the head of Jim’s cock.  “Such a pretty clitoris you’ve got for me,” McCoy cooed against the damp skin, smiling when Jim whimpered loudly.  “You want me to use my mouth on you, honey?”

 

He felt the sharp nip of Jim’s teeth against his fingers in response as a hard shudder went through Jim’s body.  McCoy took his fingers out of Jim’s mouth and reached down to press behind Jim’s testicles with the slick digits as he licked across the slit in the head of Jim’s cock, tasting the bead of precome that had bubbled up. 

 

“So wet for me, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing hard against Jim’s perineum with his wet fingers.  Jim groaned and leaned back, bracing his hands against the desk and arching up against McCoy’s caresses.  McCoy licked thoroughly over Jim’s testicles and up his straining erection to the frenulum, where he spent several long moments teasing it as if it really were a girl’s clitoris.  Jim’s arms collapsed and he did sprawl across the desk, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.  Taking the head of Jim’s cock into his mouth and sucking, he reached up with his free hand to rub Jim’s nipple through the lace of his bra.

 

Jim’s hips bucked, and McCoy slid his damp fingers down further, teasing against Jim’s anus.  Jim’s breath was loud and ragged now, punctuated with little kittenish mewls and loud, deep groans.  McCoy had to shift in his chair, giving his own now-painful erection a little breathing room.

 

He licked back down Jim’s cock to his balls, sucking them into his mouth one at a time as he pushed just the tip of one finger into Jim’s anus.  Jim gave a short, hoarse shout, one hand coming down to grip McCoy’s head between his thighs, fingers tangling painfully in McCoy’s hair.

 

McCoy chuckled against Jim’s sack, and the vibrations wrung a groan from him—or maybe that was from McCoy’s finger working deeper into Jim, opening him up.  Jim writhed, trying not to move enough that he dislodged McCoy.  McCoy took Jim’s cock into his mouth again, letting the head push against the inside of his cheeks, against the softness of his upper palate, and eventually against the back of his throat as he swallowed around it.

 

“_Fuck_,” Jim groaned, and McCoy pulled off long enough to slap Jim’s thigh and snarl a reprimand at him.

 

“You will watch your language, Miss Kirk.  Is that understood?”

 

Jim whimpered, but he nodded.  Just as McCoy had gone back to his cock, however, Jim whispered, “Fuck me, Mr. McCoy. Please fuck me.”

 

McCoy pulled off again, pushing himself out of his chair so that he loomed over Jim’s prone body.  “You think you’ve earned my cock, you little slut?”

 

Jim blinked up at him, confusion in his lust-hazed blue eyes.  This was pushing their game to a new level, and McCoy could tell Jim wasn’t sure of the correct response.  For an answer, McCoy pushed his second finger into Jim’s ass, relishing the gasp and twist it earned him. 

 

“You don’t get somethin’ for nothin’, Miss Kirk.  You have to _earn_ my cock.”  He pressed up with the fingers inside Jim, watching the pleasure contort Jim’s pretty face as he unerringly found the sensitive prostate.  “You _will_ come for me.  And then we’ll talk about you getting my cock.”

 

Jim groaned again, nodding, and McCoy brought his free hand down to smack Jim’s thigh where it was creeping up higher on McCoy’s hip.  Pretty soon, Jim was going to have his legs locked around McCoy’s waist; it always happened eventually.  McCoy gripped the muscular leg, squeezing until he was sure he was leaving finger marks. 

 

“Don’t be rude, Miss Kirk.  You will answer me in words.”

 

“Yes, Mr. McCoy,” Jim gasped, and McCoy smirked, pressing forward with his hips, rubbing his cloth-covered erection against Jim’s sensitive balls as a reward. 

 

“Good girl.”

 

Jim let loose a high pitched whine at that, arching up, and McCoy let go of Jim’s thigh to grasp his cock, jacking it slowly, adding a twist at the head. 

 

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed again, watching carefully.  Jim liked that, trembling violently as he sucked in ragged breaths that caught on the edges of McCoy’s name.  McCoy sped up his strokes, squeezing at the head on every pass.  “You’re a very good girl, darlin’.  So good.”

 

Jim gasped and arched, every muscle in his body locking as semen splattered up over the bunched red fabric of his skirt and his now-wrinkled white blouse.  Spots of it dotted the black lace of his bra, and one lonely drop glistened against his pink-glossed lower lip.

 

McCoy soothed him through the orgasm and the aftershocks before carefully sliding his fingers out and wiping them on Jim’s skirt.  He leaned forward and licked the semen off Jim’s lip before offering him his come-splattered thumb.  Jim sucked languidly and then licked over the rest of McCoy’s fingers, cleaning off the rest of his come.

 

“That’s a good girl,” McCoy purred, stroking Jim’s sweaty hair with his clean hand.  “You can have my cock now.”  McCoy sat down in his chair and pushed back from the desk, opening his pants and pulling his now-painful erection out.  He gave it a couple of sympathy strokes, but before he could do much more, Jim was slithering off the desk.  He collapsed in a debauched heap between McCoy’s spread legs and knocked McCoy’s hands away from his cock.

 

Without hesitation, Jim swallowed him down, bobbing enthusiastically, making obscene slurping noises.  It wouldn’t take long of this; he was already on the edge. 

 

“Yeah, baby,” McCoy panted, gripping the arms of his chair as he stared down at Jim, those long, dark eyelashes resting against the pretty flushed cheeks as his mouth stretched around McCoy’s cock.  “That’s it, darlin’.  Take it all.  That’s a good girl.”

 

Then Jim opened up and took him all the way down his throat, and McCoy couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the back of Jim’s head, holding him there as he came so hard he saw stars.  He distantly heard the soft sounds of Jim struggling to swallow, choking a little, but Jim didn’t try to pull off, didn’t fight the grip on his head.

 

“Fuck, _Jim!_”

 

After the tremors abated and McCoy could breathe again, he slid out of the chair, feeling exhausted and boneless, and gathered Jim into his arms.  Jim went willingly, twining his arms around McCoy’s waist and tucking his head under McCoy’s chin.  Tiny shivers burst over Jim’s skin, and McCoy waited until he could feel Jim starting to come down from the high of their scene before he dared change anything.

 

“Computer, end holodeck simulation,” McCoy called out hoarsely, and the classroom with all its trappings faded away, leaving him and Jim in a very sticky pile on the floor.

 

“Goddamn, Jim,” McCoy breathed, letting go of his lover and sprawling out on his back.  “That was intense.”

 

Jim, sitting primly with his schoolgirl skirt pulled down over his thighs now, smirked down at him.  His shirt was still open, his black panties were still hooked around one ankle, and his lips were red and wet, the gloss smeared over his cheek.

 

“I think _intense_ might be an understatement, Bones,” he said smugly.  He looked back down at his lap, tugging at the hem of the skirt again.  McCoy felt his exhausted cock attempt to react and winced.  “I think I like this outfit.”  He gave McCoy a sly glance out of the corner of his eye and grinned.  “I think I’ll wear it on the bridge tomorrow.”

 

McCoy’s groan echoed off the walls of the holodeck, mingling with Jim’s satisfied chuckle.


End file.
